


Cursed with his Dying Breath

by orphan_account



Category: Thor (Comics), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: AU closest to comics 'verse, Bor has a nasty temper, Gen, Odin "kills" his father, and holds grudges, and is sneaky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is centered around the fact that Odin left his father to die in the comics verse. </p>
<p>(Apparently Bor bugged Odin until he adopted Loki in the comics verse, as a form of revenge...that part isn't mentioned here. Though the fact that he could engineer Odin's downfall by making him adopt Loki tells you that Bor knows his son pretty well, and isn't stupid.) </p>
<p>This could theoretically belong to any number of AU's, though I'm not sure how well it actually works with the canon versions. An argument could be made for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cursed with his Dying Breath

Not five days before, he had left his father, Bor, to be dispersed upon the winds of Jotunheim. The once great king had become no more than snow, transformed by sorcery and driven about upon the whims of the storm. Odin himself was a sorcerer of no little talent. He could have saved his father. He should have saved his father. Truth be told, he could still save his father. But Odin, while he did truly care for his people and for duty, was both ambitious and prone to self-justification. Bor was hardly a model king, at least in Odin’s eyes. Surely Odin would fill that role far better. Surely it would only be for Asgard’s good if Bor did not return. None questioned his account of Bor’s fall. They were at war, after all. While the old king’s death was certainly a tragedy, it was not seen as more than a particularly grievous misfortune of war. His death was acknowledged, but then forgotten, even as it was immortalized in memory and song.

And yet, as he climbed the frozen hill to look out upon the field of battle, the screaming of the storm seemed more shrill and demanding than it ever had before. He picked up his pace, all exhaustion overshadowed by the need to finish his business and leave this miserable place behind. And still, the howling of the wind grew stronger and more distinct.

_Betrayer._

Odin flinched, took a deep breath, and picked up his pace. The weather was getting to him. It froze his reason even as its freezing grip numbed his toes and bit at his fingers, clumsy and stiff with cold.

_Oath-breaker. Kin-slayer._

The sooner he left this place the better.

_Liar. Deceiver. Ungrateful wretch. A curse be upon you, and upon your house._

“I have only done what I have for Asgard.” Odin’s voice was swallowed up by the storm, weak and impotent in the face of the blizzard’s fury.

_Liar. It was never about Asgard. You turn from your duties to play creator, to manipulate your mortals. You never could let events run their course._

“With my help they will be so much more than they would have been elsewise. And I have been a good king to Asgard, a just king. I refuse to regret that.” Odin squared his shoulders and continued on determinedly. He had a battle to plan, and no time to spare for a tired old specter that should by rights have passed on by now.

_Ha, justice. A rare commodity, and dearly bought. Vengeance is more reliable coin. Were it not for vengeance, you would never leave this place again. It is not for mercy that your life is spared._

Odin steeled himself against the foreboding shudder running up his spine, and scoffed. “I am spared only because you, an old and feeble specter, have no true substance or power. All that is in your power is to howl and moan and toss accusations about upon the wind.” 

A hair-raising chuckle echoed off the ice-laden cliffs. Truly this was an accursed place, and best left to the accursed race that dwelled here.

_Your life is spared, I did not say that you would be spared, foolish child. Your pride and thirst for power will be your undoing, the undying legacy you pass on to your children._

Ignoring the foreboding prophecy, Odin heaved himself up onto a narrow ridge of ice and stone, breathing heavily. He turned out to look upon the host of Asgard, the warrior’s bright steel reflecting the flickering fires of the camp through Jotunheim’s ever-present twilight.

_I am the foundation upon which Asgard was built. You will corrupt that foundation. The blight you will bring upon the kingdom will be its downfall. The rot within you will spread; a foul canker to eat away at your house and kingdom. I should have seen it cut out long ago._

Odin took a deep breath, looked out upon the valley’s contours and proceeded to ignore the spiteful voice. It was no more than a remembered phantom, bitter and bereft as it lashed out in its misery. It no longer had a place here.

_Fool ._ The old king’s voice chuckled darkly. _You will spread the seeds of your own defeat, and curse your children to follow in your footsteps. Your sons will know discord and strife, and not know rest._

“As your own sons have known it?” Odin’s anger sliced through the bitter air. His sons would know strife and discord, because of his sins? And what of his brothers, who lay dead or wounded upon the battlefield, at their father’s behest?  Their father had not been there to save them when he was needed. “By your reasoning, you must have been a wicked man indeed, if the sons’ fate depends upon the righteousness of their father.”

_Yet you cannot say that I have not been a good father to my sons, not in truth. Have I not always stood by you, no matter your faults? Have I not taught you and supported you? Think how much the worse your sons shall be if I, having done right by my family, am betrayed by my own son’s treacherous hand. But then, your talents always did lay in deception, and your strength in your ambition._

“I have, and always shall have, only the good of Asgard in mind,” Odin insisted. “I have never been known for treachery or selfishness. None has ever branded me a deceiver.”

_And none ever shall know you for such, but the wise. You always shall be regarded as the voice of wisdom, truth, and justice by the poor fools who choose to follow you. But will that not only make it the more painful when your own son embodies your every fault? He shall be all that you are, and be reviled for it._

Odin’s throat tightened; he stiffly swallowed down the knot of fear cutting off his breath. “You would curse me with a son that emulates me? That would seem a blessing to most fathers of my acquaintance.”

_A blessing indeed, and what better legacy could you leave than to have a son that follows so exactly in his father’s footsteps? And how could you avoid raising such a son, when you set such a shining example? Tell me, do you suppose that he will show you mercy, when the time comes?_

“It will not happen. It will _not_ be as you say.” Odin shook his head in blind denial. “And should my sons be like myself, they will be honored and greatly valued not only by myself, but by our people, as I have been. The Aesir are not so fickle.”

A bitter chuckle swept across the ridge. _Oh, if only that were so._

Odin turned and leapt down the slope, telling himself that he did not flee his father’s voice.

_You could spare him, you know._ Bor’s voice whispered in his ear. _But I doubt that you will. You are far too self-serving for that._

Odin paused. “You would curse your own grandchildren.”

_Oh, I know. And it will be long before you understand how truly ironic that is._ The voice swirled about the new king. _Still, it is you who could stop this, either now or at any point. Or you can continue onwards in your blind arrogance. My expectations are not high._

“Your expectations are neither relevant nor asked for.” Odin snapped, and marched hurriedly onward through the snow. After all, his father had never been known for skill with magic, or for any gift of prophecy. He could not predict the future, nor should he have the power to cast such a curse. There was no true need to fear.

Still, his father’s voice echoed after him. _Run then, but do not think you can escape your fate, or that your children will remain untainted by the decay that you will bring upon them. Run, my son, I will await you. Death finds us all in time; you are no exception, even among the Aesir._

As Odin pushed his way through the knee-deep snow, doing his best to ignore his father’s warning, it did not occur to him that he was setting a pattern that he would follow for the rest of his life. As ever, Odin Borson’s hard-bought wisdom would only ever be truly surpassed by his prideful folly.


End file.
